Collection of Vyal Cousland
by my black crimson rose
Summary: A collection of mostly smut based short stories/one-shots that revolve around a female warrior Cousland before the events of Swept Under take place. Takes place anywhere from first meeting to Witch Hunt. [Alistair/Female Cousland]
1. Stitched Up and Bared Open

**M.B.C.R says: **This is just smut. Smut Smut Smut. Also, can be considered the prequel of Swept Under. This collection is mostly going to be smut based and the slight exploration of Vyal and Alistair's relationship.

I'm thinking of writing something during the Landsmeet.

* * *

His stitches are straining as he pulls his tunic over his head, the garment getting stuck around his wrist. He could only groan helplessly; tugging at the hold until the other Gray Warden in the tent sighed and freed him from his shirt. A moist towel glided over his jaw, scrubbing away the dry blood from the head wound he had received on the road.

"Everything hurts," he grumbled wrapping an arm around his lover's bare waist and pulling her into his lap. The cloth scrubbed up by his eye and into his hairline. The blood had dried and stained his normally dark blond hair a deep maroon; the blood crusting and flaking away as the woman picked and pulled at the mess. "I should really go jump into that lake we're camped near," he mumbled against her neck, pulling her in closer.

"You'll get your stitches wet," was her only reply. The woman had been furious with him earlier for following after her in the middle of the fight, but he couldn't just leave her to her own devices against the horde of enemies. She pressed a kiss against his freshly cleaned forehead, "I told you to hang back."

She wasn't angry, just tired and a little breathless. A nice change from the furrowed brows, curled lip, and worried looks that he was getting earlier. "I couldn't just let you run in by yourself," he had said it before and he'll continue to say it now. They were a pair—more so now than ever before.

"You got hurt taking hits that weren't for you," the cloth dampened his hair as the last of the crust of blood was cleaned from the dark coloured strands. "I have a shield, love." Her voice dipped into a warm concern; her normally steeled and anger-fueled eyes softening as she cupped his jaw.

Alistair kissed her; a soft peck to her lips. "As do I. I promised to watch your back and I will," his hold of her tightened and he placed a kiss to her nose. "That means I'd follow you to the Fade and back... again, if need be." He could feel the '_I love you_' on the tip of his tongue, on the flesh of their lips pressing and sliding together as he fell back into the furs and their shared bedrolls.

The woman pulled away from him. "You'll open those stitches if you continue fingering my small clothes." She had shed all her clothes upon entering the tent, all except the thin cloth that covered her womanhood. He pulled at the strings and it snapped back against her hips.

He licked his lips as a thought crossed his mind and warmed in his belly. It heated his chest and shoulders, a nice rich pink colouring appearing on his skin. "I want to try something," he cleared his throat. Alistair patted at her waist so she could roll off him and onto the bedding; she did wordlessly but not without a raise of a brow.

"Don't push yourself." He kissed her, settling above her. The stitches strained from this position and he groaned into her mouth, pulling away to hiss as the feeling.

There were times that he wondered if she loved him. She remained so steeled throughout the day except when they'd return to camp. He could catch the laughter in her tone as she conversed with Morrigan. Witnessed her share a few drinks with an already drunken Oghren. He listened in while she gossiped with Leliana and even Zevran—not like wasn't hard to hear these so called "whispered conversations". Their whispering weren't much of whispers to begin with.

Her eyes gave her away; swirled with anger and pain.

She was mourning still and he could see it now as she spoke. The worry swimming with hints of fear and desperation. She couldn't (wouldn't) lose him. And each desperate kiss between battles only served to prove that that little fear tucked deep in the back of his mind was wrong.

So very, very wrong.

He kissed down the length of her neck, sucking a mark against her sun-kissed skin before sucking another one on the pale flesh of her chest. He too had the distinct discoloration between where his armor began and ended. It was fun to point out, to kiss the line on the skin between tanned and not. It made her squirm normally; not used to the affection.

But right now was not one of those times. Tonight he'd continue his kisses south... and he did. He licked at his lips before taking a nipple in and flicking his tongue against the hardened nub. Her breath caught in her throat, stomach muscles clenching and unclenching—fluttering under his touch as he brushed his knuckles against her toned stomach. He switched breast; dragging his teeth then tongue over the nub.

"Fuck," she hissed through clenched teeth. He closed his mouth around the teat and sucked. A whine pinched through her mouth as she pushed up against him. She grunted, falling back into the covers and growled as he removed himself from her. "Where—?" the sentence catching in her throat as he slowly pulled her small clothes down her legs.

His hands were heavy and hot as they glided over her skin, pulling garment from her ankles and setting it onto the pile of her clothes by the tied-off tent flaps. His hands shook as he caressed her thigh; shivers shocked up her spine and clenched in her lungs. Every breath was a beautiful sweet torture; he was kissing the side of her knee now, hooking it over his shoulder as he lowered himself back onto the bedrolls.

Alistair pressed a heavy kiss to her stomach. Hands feeling clammy, he wiped the moisture on the covers. He kissed her again this time two inches lower—his mouth felt dry, why was his mouth dry? Her body shifted under him as she parted her leg further to accommodate him.

"Take your time, love." Her voice caused his attention to shift back towards her face.

Her face held the most precious blush he had ever seen on her skin; it had migrated from her cheeks, down the long column of her neck and to her chest.

He licked his lips and steeled his nerves; there was no point worrying about whether she'd enjoy it or not if he didn't even get to it yet. His knuckles brushed over the curls between her legs, Alistair glanced up at her through his lashes. Her head fell back as she sucked a breath through her teeth. He parted her folds with two fingers, slipping a finger into the moisture and dragging the slick upwards.

He remembered what she mentioned nights ago—her clitoris. That hardened little nub that when he'd brush against would cause her breath to catch on the inhale, and with the exhale she'll moan wantonly. That little bundle of nerves could send her back bending and nails digging into his shoulders as her eyes rolled back.

He kissed the dark curls, twitching his finger against her clit. Her stomach muscles tensed, as her breath pushed out between clenched teeth. He wanted to taste her, feel every little nook and cranny under his tongue. So he did.

Nose buried into her curls, he used his slicked fingers to part her, flicking his tongue out and lathering a swipe and tasting her sweet nectar. And Maker's breath was it fantastic. The laces of his breeches strained, he couldn't help but groan as he lapped at her cunt. He lapped again and again, tongue pressing against that hardened little nub and sucked.

His heart pounded in his ears, the swell in his cock telling him to continue on and just _never stop_. He couldn't even hear the woman; though he could feel the leg thrown over his shoulder clench and pull him closer. He pushed a finger into her soaking opening, crooking his finger in a come-hither motion and her hips bucked just as she grabbed a handful of his hair.

He wasn't aware of when he had closed his eyes, only that he had opened them again when she tugged a little too harshly. She was spasming; chest heaving as she moaned and sobbed, and merely moaned some more. She couldn't even voice his name, "ah" and "oh" only seemed to roll from her tongue. Her back arched and a scream of the first syllable of his name pierced the air, swallowed by a throaty moan as she clenched around his finger.

Her orgasm was violent; her body bowed, twisting, and clenched around him. As he could do was watch and continue to press kisses between her folds. He never wanted to taste another thing—no sweet bun, or lemon pie, or cake would ever taste the same compared to that. If he could he'd say "_fuck the Blight"_ and bury his face between her thighs and never leave.

She shifted, chest still heaving, as she pulled him back up. He hesitated; he wanted to continue to flick his tongue into those velvet folds and taste her every waking moment. Her pawing grew desperate, a keen escaping and he consented. He hadn't noticed until his buried his face into the junction of her neck and shoulder that his lips and chin was soaked with saliva and her juices.

She wrapped arms around him, pressing a kiss to his ear. "I want you inside me," she panted and Alistair had never unlaced his breeches so quickly. He couldn't be bothered to pull his pants and smalls to his knees. He entered her quickly, knowing that he would embarrass himself later on how quickly he'd spill. But now, now all he cared about was her heat entrapping his prick and her tongue and teeth fondling his ear.

It couldn't have even been ten thrusts before he spilt his seed within her; breath catching as he clung to her.

He stretched out above her; face still buried deep in her neck as he regained a sense of being again. All he felt was warmth and a lazy pull in his limbs as he moved. His head was still clouded, her taste still heavy on his tongue. "Can I just bury my head between your thighs and just never leave?" his voice caught twice, feeling like a hand had wrapped around his throat and refused to release. He cleared his throat again and thought briefly of the water pouch buried under all her clothes. She clung to him tightly and Alistair elected to ignore the need for water for awhile longer.

Her breath caught, "I wouldn't mind that." He glanced up from his little nook and grinned lazily up at her; she stared, burrows furrowed before gesturing to his face. "You—you have a little something right..." she gestured to his chin.

His grin turned goofy and the taste of her on his tongue became more pronounce, "yeah?" He leaned over and wiped his face against their bedroll.

She nodded at him when he presented his wiped cleaned face, "better." She nodded and he kissed her; swiping his tongue into her mouth in a slow languid press. She could taste herself and it sparked something within her as she kissed him deeper.


	2. Stitched Up and Bared Open BONUS!

**M.B.C.R says: **This is a not smut chapter... though it is a direct continuation of the last one and mostly a way for me to giggle at a flustered Alistair.

* * *

[**Bonus**]

Alistair was dead to the world when she finally squinted an eye open. They had shimmied into the bed roll sometime after the sweat cooled on their skin and the night air took a turn into numbing temperatures.

She didn't want to move; he was warm and his face was nicely pillowed on one of her breast. And even if she _wanted_ to move, Alistiar had a firm hold of her waist. That boy was a snuggler, and she _loved_ it. She had spent a night or two with other men in Highever—a knight here, and lord's son there. She wasn't a stranger to sex—love, yes... sex, not so much.

Alistair was the first man to ever seek her out in their sleep. He would reach over and paw at her until he could either snake an arm under her or curl around her or even trap her into an embrace.

Like he was doing right now in fact.

The man pulled her in closer and she whined, shifting in his hold. She needed to get out—Darkspawn to kill. Thedas to save—y'know, normal Gray Warden stuff. "Alistair, sweetheart, let go." She ran a hand through the thin hair of his nape. "Alistair," she repeated scratching his scalp.

He groaned pushing up into her touch before settling back into his impromptu pillow. He nuzzled her breast; back tensing as he stretched, his spine popping in three different places. He was finally coming to. He peeked an eye open, staring up at her in a sleepy daze.

Alistair moved, propping himself up on an elbow and stared openly. "Hi," he yawned.

"Morning," she replied following him up to place a kiss to the corner of his lips. She peeled the covers off her and shivered. A smear of red caught her attention and she rubbed at the mark on her stomach. Dried blood. She turned back to Alistair and eyed his exposed stitches, "you pulled your stitches sometime last night."

He eyed the stitches in question and groaned at the sight of dried blood smeared around on his torso. "I don't want to jump in the lake," he whined flopping back into the bed of furs and blankets.

She rolled her eyes, "you're starting to smell and you still have dried blood in your hair." He pouted, "You need to wash your shirt from yesterday." His pouting only grew worse; he threw in a little bit of the puppy dog eyes for an added affect. "I'll make sure your stitches aren't ruined and are dried properly. Just go jump into the lake; I plan on returning to the Deep Roads to go find Branka for Oghren. He's been grumbling a little too much for my liking."

Alistair let out a loud groan of discontent but sat up regardless. "I want at least five kisses before we leave camp. No less."

The woman laughed pressing a kiss to his lips, "I'm rather fond of the number eight this morning. How about that?" Alistair's fingers tangling through her hair and pulled her back down so he could lather her with open mouthed kissed.

They were continuing their way back to the Dwarven City with their large group. "So, heard you and the boss," Oghren let out a deep rumble of a chuckle. His armor sliding together as he did. The Gray Warden, Vyal Cousland, leading the pack of mix-matched companions tripped and caught herself with a blush that went unnoticed by most of her companions.

Sten, Wynne, and Shale's ever watchful eyes seemed to catch everything.

"It was very loud—you did the trick with your tongue, yeah? The one I mentioned?" Zevran elbowed the blond warden and Alistair cleared his throat. He was growing flustered with all the attention—he had started getting used to Oghren and Zevran's _questions_ while they were exploring, but they had never both pressed like this together.

He glanced up towards the head of the group towards the woman they were asking about and he was met with the picture of her slowly pulling the visor of her helmet down. He was tempted to do the same with his.

"I would've liked to have gone through my life without hearing a firsthand account of your aptitude towards a sexual nature." Morrigan had already had her fair share of gossip to go off of from the Cousland woman; if she wanted to know more about the Gray Wardens sexual relationship she could've asked Vyal! But no, instead the camp was subjected to a very loud lovemaking and everyone was now bringing it back up again.

The female warden quickened her steps.

Lelianna snaked an arm through Alistiar's and pressed her cheek against the cool golden armor. "So what did you do? You had to have tried something new. Your coupling has never been that before!" her grin froze in his stomach.

Why weren't they asked _her_ these questions? She was the one that was open in discussing their bedroom activities. She had a way with the... the words and she wouldn't fluster and blunder her way through or around the conversation.

But when Alistair glanced up towards the head of the group their _fearless leader_ wasn't there, "uh." His brows furrowed, "where'd Vyal go?"


	3. Bae's First BJ

**M.B.C.R says: **This title that i'm using for this chapter is in fact the summary that I've been telling everyone about and also the title that I gave it while working on it in that damn word document. I just didn't want to change it. But yeah, there's a brief conversation in here that I'm going to be exploring in the next installment so if you wanna take a guess what it is do feel free!

* * *

In some miraculous feat that Vyal herself wasn't sure she possessed, they were able to find a bed and a room to rent for most of the party. And by the party she meant all of them. Zevran, Shale, Sten, Princess Stabbity, the dog, Wynne... Morrigan. She meant _everyone_. Now sure, some of them agreed to share a room, but for the most part they all got a bed to themselves.

And that was a blessing after so many nights camping out, and now that they were back in the mountains it was _cold_.

Alistair untied and unbuckled the last of the straps keeping his armor together and set it on the trunk at the foot of the bed beside the other Warden's. Falling back into the bed with a loud sigh of content he winked, "finally sleeping in a bed again."

The woman raised a deep red brow at her lover and scoffed, "sleep?" She grinned wickedly, hooking her thumbs under her loose fitting tunic and pulling it over her head. "Who said we'll be sleeping tonight?"

A strangled noise escaped the blond and he stared openly as his partner slowly slid out of her pants and boots, until all she was left with was the wrap that contained her breasts and the poor excuse of smallclothes. He met her at the side of the bed, hands cupping her arse and squeezing. He mouthed the fabric covering her womanhood, hands massaging the globes of her ass.

Her fingers tangled in his hair and pulled at it until he looked up at her with a lustful gaze. "I want to try something," she grinned giving his hair another tug. He groaned eyes closing as he succumbed to the hair-pulling and the possibility of whatever she was planning. She let go; pushing away from him and the bed.

Alistair watched her make a sweeping motion towards his clothes, "everything. Take it off." He swallowed thickly and stood on shaky feet. It was the nerves again; it was always the damn nerves. He pulled his tunic off first, and with a flick of his wrist he chucked the shirt to the opposite side of the room. He pulled at the laces of his breeches, shimmying them down his legs and letting them pool around his ankles.

Alistair pushed his smalls down his leg, and when they joined his pants he kicked them both away with a flick of his foot. He held his arms out and waggled his brows, "everything to your liking, m'lady?"

Vyal snorted, pressing her hands flat against his chest and pushing him back into the bed. "Yeah, yeah. You won't be able to sass me soon enough." She plucked the pillow from the head of the bed and dropped it to the floor in front of Alistair's feet. She tapped his knees and he sat up, but made room for her between his legs to kick the pillow between his feet.

"Are you—?" he cut himself off when she sunk down to her knees with a crooked grin spread on her lips. He swallowed thickly when her hands began to massage his legs, nails trailing over his leg hair as she pressed and soothed the well-worked muscles. He took her bottom lip between his teeth and nipped at it. "I..." he cleared his throat when he parted from her; his cheeks were starting to heat.

"Don't be nervous," she pecked his lips, "I've been wanting to do this for awhile." Her hands traveled up higher and heat began to pool in his belly. Alistair tangled his fingers in the strands of her hair, scratching and pulling at the deep red strands.

"Yeah?" it sounded stupid in his ears. His voice all cracking and heart beating wildly in his chest. This was going to be embarrassing but he couldn't help it when his cock twitched. A pretty girl like he wanted to swallow his prick—he'd heard of the pleasures that a woman could give with just her mouth, and he was a man with a very active imagination.

It would be a lie to say that he hadn't dreamed—thought even—of Vyal engaging in these activities with him.

She grinned, teeth pulling at his own lip just as he had done to hers moments ago. "Oh yeah," she _giggled_. Giggled! Like some maid... or—or some gossiping high lady! She pushed lightly until Alistair was leaning back on a palm. She settled onto the pillow and smoothed her hands along his legs, kissing the inside of his thighs before throwing a wink at him.

He opened his mouth to question her actions but all that escaped was a groan. It caught in his throat as her lips pressed against the head of his cock. Vyal's tongue swirled around the tip before she took his prick in mouth without much hesitation and no accidental nicking of teeth. She hollowed her cheeks and sucked.

Alistair hissed, "fucking—" A groan cut him off and his clenched his eyes shut.

She sucked in a deep breath through her nose and took him deeper. Tongue pressed and sliding against the underside of his dick, she relaxed her throat and took as much of him as she could. Her fingers dug into his thighs as he made small spastic thrusts into that wet heat that wrapped around his prick.

Alistair's head rolled back and he moaned when she began to bob. Tongue swirling around the tip, cheeks hollowing, and a nice hard suck on the upsweeps. And when she went down she'd let out a hum, the vibration making his toes and eyes curl and—"Antraste's fiery tits!" His hand gripped the back of her neck as he pulled her head back down; he felt like he took a hit to the gut as he spilled his seed down her throat.

He pulled his hand away from her neck like it burned, "shit. Sh—shit, that was embarrassing." He cleared his throat and went to try speaking again, this time without his voice cracking in three different places like a child. "I..." he cleared his throat again.

Vyal sat back wiping the spit from her chin and winked up at her lover. "I would've been surprised if you lasted longer actually. New sensation and such," she grinned using his legs to help pull herself off the floor. She leaned forwards to press a kiss against his forehead, brushing his moistened hair from his skin. "That and I've been told I have a _fantastic_ mouth," she laughed as Alistair pulled her down on top of him and they went falling back into the bed.

He fondled the laces keeping the binding together without a thought as his mind wondered in and out of this plain. "Sometimes I forget that you've done these things before," he glanced down at her. She was using his shoulder as a pillow, lathering the joint with soft kisses.

"Sometimes I like to forget too," he couldn't be sure that he heard that right and even if he did it was quickly forgotten when she pulled his face towards hers and their lips pressed together, teeth clicking together and all he could taste is himself on her tongue.

"Ugh," he groaned pulling away, "you taste way better."

Vyal grinned, "Is this you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" She pulled an Alistair and waggled her brows at him. Alistair grinned rolling them over and pressing a knee in-between hers, "because if so I'm _very much_ ready for this."


	4. Yes she has licked a lamppost in Winter

**M.B.C.R says: **I'm very surprised that I wrote most of the dialogue and stuff on skype last night and most of this thing is dialogue. But yes, I mentioned last chapter that they're going to be a conversation about past sexual histories... so here it is.

Quick point to make before going into this:

-Redcliff then left before they found out about anything going on ("We should go look for the urn just in case he's really sick" and Alistair approved)

-Went to the mages instead/also found out about Alistair's sister before they jumped into the fade.

-this happens.

* * *

He had just came down from the whole sex conversation and the one thing that he just couldn't shake was the soft little smile on her face when he _rejected_ her offer to join her in her tent. Who smiles after a rejection?

Alistair took a seat on the log that they had rolled over close to the fire when they were setting up the camp. "Back—" he hesitated, what do you say when you want to ask about why the girl you like start smiling when you rejected their advances? Was there even a proper way to go about it?

_So I saw that you were smiling when I turned you down for The Sex_—yeah, that sounded sooo great Alistair, so great. He rolled his eyes at his own thoughts.

Vyal took his hand in hers, their gauntlets clinking and scraping together as she adjusted her hold. "You know, I admire you." She smiled almost shyly at him. His breath caught in his throat—the fire, the light, her, this night... everything about it danced and reflected off her and her armor and it was beautiful. She was stunning; it hits him in the weirdest of moments.

She was covered in blood a few days ago and Alistair remembered thinking that she was the most beautiful woman right at that moment—then again when he stumbled upon her naked as she scrubbed the blood off, but she didn't know he saw _that_ and he'd very much like it if it remained that way.

"It's sweet that you want to save that first time for a special person and time." Alistair furrowed his brows in confusion, "no really. It's sweet." She pressed a kiss against his cheek and clung to his hand all the more tighter. "Wish I thought of it as something special rather than... well, rather then what I did."

She untangled their fingers and reached over to toss another piece of wood into the fire. "So you've...?" he had assumed that she had but he didn't feel right just... asking. She was a noble woman after all and he remembers the stigma that surrounds a woman of the court and any bed partners they take. He's heard the mumbling, not that he understood it at the time but he heard the mumbling.

She huffed out what could only be described as a _bitter_ laugh. She watched him out of the corner of her eye before focusing her attentions back to the crackling and popping wood. "Yeah, I've partook in the pleasures of the bedroom."

He was sensing a bit of a story, and he was correct. It was like the flood gates were coming down and a simmering rage was sweeping out over her expression.

"My parents tried to get me to marry." She laughed at this, like the thought of the ordeal was something so ridiculous that it was laughable. And in a way Alistair could see why she found it like that. She was stubborn—headstrong and very much a woman who didn't enjoy the lifestyle that most noble women were subjected to. "They tried to match me with nobles from here to the Free Marches. Anywhere but Orlais, Father was animate about that even more so after Fergus married and had a son."

Alistair is watched her lips as she spoke. She'd turn her lip up in disgust at the thought, or snarl, and at one point a crooked little grin began to form. Vyal's brows furrowed when she paused and a scowl began to harden on her lips.

"Even after I made a fool out of my parents that one day—" she stops to huff at whatever memory flashed in her mind, "they still hoped that if some lords would visit the castle even if they didn't openly invite them to court me I'd just suddenly change my mind and start swooning over these idiots."

Alistair thinks he knows where the next part was going. He's heard a tale or two of these in his time in the Chantry. Someone turns to sin in their desperation, though the topic of lust and bodily pleasures always made Alistair question if it was _truly_ wrong to want to engage in such actions. Sure, maybe if someone did it _a lot_ then maybe. But... well, who was Alistair to judge?!

"A noble woman's virginity is a fantastic selling point to most noble houses in arrange marriages," Vyal's face paled even in the fire's light, "and until I got that out of the way Mother would keep dropping that little selling point and those lords and their sons would still line up." Alistair took her hand in his again and she glanced down at it. "So I did what I had to—" She continued in a near whisper, like this was the only part that she could bare to hate. "Talk up some women at the pleasure houses to see what I was getting myself into, prepared and decided that one of the little lordling's that came calling was a decent enough face to sleep with."

"So that's what I did. I invited him up to my room and the problem was taken care of. Mother of course was furious, so was Father. Actually, even my Brother was disappointed in my actions—he had no reason to be he's slept with plenty of women before his marriage."

Alistair opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before settling with not speaking up. He didn't know what to say. What do you even say to that? Is there a right answer to reply with?

_Damn those double standards_? Or maybe even... no, never mind he was drawing a blank.

Vyal turned to Alistair and threw him a tight-lipped smile, "after that though it was fun." She fiddled with his covered thumb wiggling it as she spoke. "Stuck mostly to knights and soldiers. Lordlings are all soft hands and air of superiority; their pricks aren't much to feel superior about though so I guess it's true what the people say about compensation."

He choked on his spit; coughing up a lung as she tried to keep the grin from breaking out over her face. He swallowed staring at her when a dark and amused look crossed her features, "but then again here you are, a royal bastard. I have to wonder now..."

Alistair's cheeks fluster and he jumps from his seated position, all but throwing her hand away from him as he tried not to trip over his own two feet."I'm going back over-over t-there. Until the blushing goes away. Again. Just... yeah, I'm going to do that... like, right now." He pointed and stuttered, tripping on grass as he stormed away with her howls of laughter sending a new wave of redness up his neck and spreading to his ears and cheeks.


End file.
